Words: Isaac Watts Music: "Southwell (Daman)" by William Daman Not all the blood of beasts On Jewish altars slain Could give the guilty conscience peace Or wash away the stain. But Christ, the heav'nly Lamb, Takes all our sins away; A sacrifice of nobler name And richer blood than they. My faith would lay her hand On that dear head of Thine, While, like a penitent, I stand, And there confess my sin. My soul looks back to see The burdens Thou didst bear When hanging on the cursèd tree, And hopes her guilt was there. Believing, we rejoice To see the curse remove; We bless the Lamb with cheerful voice, And sing His bleeding love.
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